


dork.

by thiyaksokhae



Series: this christmas, i'll give you a smile [4]
Category: GOT7
Genre: (you know me), Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, mentioned markjin, mentions of gyeom and mark, mild crack maybe, only fluff there's nothing else, snowball throwing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 11:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thiyaksokhae/pseuds/thiyaksokhae
Summary: a snowball hit youngjae's head, and now he thinks he saw an angel.





	dork.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hmd220](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hmd220/gifts).



> for laura, one of the people responsible for me posting my works in the first place. thanks for helping me out in ways that you weren't even aware of. you're going through a hard time and i hope things get better for you. i love you a lot and i hope you can smile again soon. <3

Youngjae scoffs, a small white cloud exiting his mouth. “No, I absolutely refuse to believe that dabbing is good for health.”

 

“Scientifically proven,” insists Kunpimook, his feet crunching on the fresh snow. “The best dabbing experts say so.”

 

“Tell me who said that, besides you,” challenges Youngjae, attempting to cross his arms in front of him but failing due to his bulky, overly large jacket.

 

“Yugyeom,” says Kunpimook immediately with a grin.

 

The mention of their other friend does not satisfy Youngjae, who snorts. “Doesn’t count.”

 

“You asked for another name, and I gave you one,” shrugs Kunpimook smugly, bumping his shoulder against Youngjae’s playfully.

 

“Yeah, but I meant—” Youngjae’s denial is interrupted by a snowball flying out of nowhere and hitting him, in a awful, cold manner, at the back of his head. The cold icy flakes escape into his jacket like freezing shards of hell, and he feels a bit dazed. Kunpimook is actually laughing, because that’s the kind of best friend that he is.

 

Youngjae turns around so he can get a good look at the culprit, who’s standing several feet behind with his hand over his mouth. Another male with bright red hair stands next to him, punching him on the arm as though reminding him to apologize, after which the original culprit puts his hands in the air in surrender and apologizes—Youngjae can’t really hear him, but a burst of white breath comes out of the boy’s mouth as his lips mouth a “Sorry”, and Youngjae waves a hand as though it’s not a big deal.

 

Because suddenly the snowball seems like not a big deal at all, due to Youngjae’s realization of the fact that the boy looks… well, he looks so adorable that he practically renders Youngjae thoughtless, forget speechless. Did Youngjae forget to pay to keep his lungs filled with air this morning? Because he feels like all his air supply has been cut off.

 

The boy has a large scarf wrapped around his neck and beanie over his hair, large dorky rectangular glasses that adorn his eyes that are scrunched up into crescents in an embarrassed and apologetic smile. Youngjae wants to step closer to them, maybe admire the boy’s face a little more, maybe get a name, but his opportunity is wrenched away when the boy’s friend drags him down a different side road, probably out of consideration towards his friend’s discomfiture.

 

Kunpimook is observing him with an X-ray like gaze. “You okay? You look a little dazed.”

 

“I got hit in the head with a snowball, idiot,” snaps Youngjae, falling back to reality from his scattered, hazy thoughts and not feeling happy about it. 

 

“Sure,” says Kunpimook, stretching the vowel sound. “Nothing to do with the fact that under different circumstances, you would’ve walked up to him and asked him for his number? Actually, you wouldn’t have asked. You would’ve gotten me to con him into giving up his number.”

 

“What makes you think that?” asks Youngjae defensively, feeling like Kunpimook’s known him for too long.

 

“He seemed your type. He had the vibe. Tall, dorky, probably has a million pets at home,” shrugs Kunpimook, like he’s some kind of expert on people. In complete honesty, Kunpimook is actually pretty good at reading people. He’s one of those people who come across as oblivious when they’re actually taking in everything around them. “And he hit you in the head with a snowball and apologized. That’s a cute meeting story, something a sap like you would like to tell to your grandchildren.”

 

“Going overboard now, I think,” cuts off Youngjae, feeling mildly uncomfortable. 

 

Kunpimook can probably sense that because he grins and bumps his shoulder against Youngjae’s once more. “That’s okay, hyung. You might actually end up together, in your wildest dreams. The universe works in strange ways, but nothing beats your imagination.”

 

“Yah, you brat!”

 

And that is the story of how Kunpimook had to sit through his eight o’clock lecture with three handfuls of snow shoved down his sweater.

  
  


=

  
  


Youngjae likes coffee. A lot. As a university student, he’s knows he's not the only one when calls it his fuel and reason for living.

 

He walks into his usual café, laptop in his satchel and ready to get his usual evening caffeine hit before he starts working in his History of Classical Music paper that he has to submit in a few days. He’s been here for long enough to be known by every single one of the baristas, and Nayeon chirps a quick hello to him as she takes his order. He doesn’t even need to tell her what he wants.

 

He takes a seat on a stool near the counter and pulls out his laptop, opening his document. Barely two minutes have passed when an iced vanilla bean latte and a slice of warm chocolate-hazelnut pie is placed next to him. Youngjae looks up to give the barista a thank you, and locks eyes with the one and only Im Jaebum, christened in Youngjae’s mind as his Favorite Barista, the one who’s Out Of His League.

 

The first time Youngjae walked into the café, Jaebum had been manning the counter, and Youngjae had fallen face first on the floor. Quite literally. He’d ignored the wet floor sign and actually ended up slipping and falling. Surprisingly enough, that became his reason to talk to Jaebum, who was the one who’d gotten him an ice pack for the swelled bump that had formed on his forehead. 

 

After that, they’d generally exchange a few words every time Youngjae visited the café, which was often. Or maybe part of the reason that Youngjae visited so often was to talk to Jaebum, who had turned out to be a Supreme Dork, much to Youngjae’s delight and dismay. Kunpimook teases Youngjae about having his head stuck in the clouds too often, for good reason, because Youngjae’s imagination always seems to run away with him whenever the thought of Jaebum strikes him. Of course, his imagination is all it can be limited to, so Youngjae feels zero regret.

 

Of course, as the thought of relationships restricted to imagination strikes him, Youngjae’s mind wanders back to the Cute Snowball Thrower from the morning. He’s been on Youngjae’s mind all day, popping up at the randomest and the most inconvenient times.

 

“Hey, Jae,” smiles Jaebum. “How’s your day going?”

 

“Been having a weird one,” admits Youngjae. “‘M pretty sure I saw an angel in the morning.”

 

“An angel?” Jaebum’s eyebrows fly upwards, a corner of his mouth quirking upwards into a smirk. God, Youngjae wishes he didn’t look that good, while simultaneously noting that if his imagination got paid, it would be rolling in money by now.

 

“Like the Supreme Sovereign of Angelic Dorks or something,” elaborates Youngjae, making no more sense that he did with his previous statement, as conveyed by the confused little crease between Jaebum’s eyebrows.

 

“Did you get hit in the head or something, Jae?”

 

“Actually,” Youngjae brightens and takes a sip of his vanilla bean latte. “I did. Yes, I did.” The crease between Jaebum’s eyebrows gets deeper, so Youngjae rushes to explain himself. “I mean, he hit me in the head with a snowball.”

 

“I’m pretty sure angels don’t go around lobbing snowballs at people,” comments Jaebum with a bright grin.

 

“What do you know, hyung?” sighs Youngjae, faux-condescendingly.

 

“I know that I wouldn’t call someone an angel if they hit me in the head with a snowball.”

 

“You wouldn’t understand.” Youngjae shakes his head. “He was A class dork material. You could feel it from a mile away. I got hit in the face with so much cuteness that it outweighed my anger at being the target of a snowball attack.”

 

“So much cuteness, huh?” repeats Jaebum in an amused tone, propping his chin up on his palm. “Did you manage to notice anything else? What was he wearing? A jacket? A black one?”

 

“Yeah, actually.” Youngjae lets the guess slide because almost everyone wears black jackets. Jaebum got lucky.

 

Jaebum smirks, leaning forward by the slightest degree. “Blue scarf?”

 

Now, Youngjae’s a little surprised. He doesn’t know many people who wear blue scarves. “Mhmm.”

 

“Huge rectangular frames? A black beanie that if you had maybe looked close enough at, would’ve had an Adidas symbol on it?” Jaebum’s smirk grows wider and more pronounced in his tone with every word.

 

Youngjae is genuinely alarmed now. “How’re you making those guesses?” There’s a possibility that’s forming in his mind, but that’s too improbable, but what other explanation can there be?

 

“Ah, about that.” Patches of the palest pink appear over Jaebum’s cheekbones. “That was… uh, me.”

 

Suspicions confirmed. Panic mode on. Youngjae gapes. “No way.”

 

“Um, yeah,” nods Jaebum. “Why’d you think I got all those guesses right? That was me, Jae.”

 

Yeah, this can’t be happening. Youngjae buries his head in his hands, letting loose a string of expletives as Jaebum laughs, quite obviously finding the whole thing the epitome of amusing.

 

“Ayo, what’s going on?” A poke to Youngjae’s side. “Youngjae?”

 

Great. Another person to be a witness to Youngjae’s horrific embarrassment, also known as Jaebum’s best friend and Person Who Mothers Literally Everyone, another regular at the café, Park Jinyoung.

 

“I just might have broken the poor kid’s heart by informing him that I am, regrettably, not an angel,” jokes Jaebum, placing his hand on Youngjae’s head and gently ruffling his hair.

 

“I’m going to need some context,” says Jinyoung, bristling slightly at being absolutely clueless.

 

Youngjae looks up at Jaebum. “Hey, I’m going to need some context too. How did you not know it was me? How did I not know it was you? This doesn’t make sense!”

 

“Can someone do me the kind honor of telling me what the actual fuck is going on?” grumbles Jinyoung irritably, once again showcasing his symptoms of I-can’t-stand-not-knowing-what’s-going-on-itis (as Jaebum likes to teasingly call it).

 

“Since you didn’t come to uni today, I decided to walk with Mark instead—”

 

There’s a dramatic shift in Jinyoung’s tone, from extremely annoyed to extremely jealous. “You went with Mark?”

 

“Yes, I did, because unlike  _ someone,  _ I’m able to have a conversation with him without us both turning into blushing messes,” says Jaebum with a wink, and Youngjae’s smart enough to put together what he’s missing, double confirmed by the scarlet sweeping across Jinyoung’s cheeks. “Anyway, we were taking the shortcut route, and Mark said something stupid and I threw a snowball at him. Only, I missed and it hit Youngjae instead.” He turns to the mentioned. “In all fairness, I didn’t know it was you either because of that huge-ass jacket.”

 

“Fair enough,” mumbles Youngjae, looking at his hands. God, this is so embarrassing.

 

“But then you turned and I guessed that it might be you?” admits Jaebum, his tone guarded like he’s on the edge of giving important details away. “But I didn’t want to check.”

 

“Don’t you generally go up to someone to apologize?” inquires Youngjae, coloring his words with a bit of hurt and betrayal.

 

“Yeah, but we were in a hurry, and since I thought that it might have been you, I didn’t, uh,” Jaebum gestures to his face vaguely. “You know, glasses, insecurity.”

 

“I thought I’ve told you a million times to get over that,” sighs Jinyoung with an eye roll, clapping a hand on Jaebum’s shoulder. “You look fabulous in those glasses. Doesn’t he, Youngjae?”

 

“Can I be left out of this conversation, please?” groans Youngjae, letting his head drop into his hands again.

 

“Okay, how about this?” Jaebum pokes Youngjae’s head, snapping the younger out of his mental anguish. “As a proper apology, you let me take you out somewhere.”

 

Youngjae’s mind is moving a sluggishly slow pace, and he doesn’t know if he registered everything too quickly or whether he hasn’t registered anything at all. “Take me out?”

 

“He means on a date,” clarifies Jinyoung immediately, an evil grin laced into his words.

 

Youngjae’s head whips towards Jaebum’s, taking in the shy grin and realizing that he’s not kidding. “For real?”

 

“I mean, if you don’t mind hanging out with the Supreme Sovereign of Angelic Dorks,” teases Jaebum with a wink (Ack, someone catch Youngjae’s heart), eliciting an eye roll from Youngjae, who smiles and nods. “You know,” continues Jaebum, “I don’t think I deserve that title as much as you do.”

 

“I think you’re both dorks,” cuts in Jinyoung. “It’s pathetic, I only talk to both of you at the same time sometimes and even I could tell how much you were dancing around your feelings. Like, please, get married alre—”

 

“Finish that sentence and I will pour cinnamon in your coffee,” threatens Jaebum, cheeks burning.

 

“Heaven forbid,” replies Jinyoung, scandalized at the very idea. “I’ll leave you two teenagers alone.”

 

Youngjae thinks he should say something, something about how he’s embarrassed himself beyond measure and that he wonders if Jaebum will ever look at him as a normal human being again. Also, side thought: did Jaebum just ask him out?

 

Oh.

 

Holy fuck, Im Jaebum asked him out. 

 

All the wires in Youngjae’s brain short-circuit in one shot. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. A smile spreads across his face as he looks across the counter at Jaebum, who’s been watching Youngjae’s facial expressions flicker with a fond look in his eye, one that Youngjae just identified, but that has been there all along.

 

“Has it sunk in?” asks Jaebum, to which Youngjae nods. “Okay, good, ‘cause I still don’t think that happened.”

 

Youngjae laughs. What an absolute dork.

  
  


=

  
  


**notparkjinyoung**

so i heard from a little birdie that you might or

might not have planned the whole snowball thing ;)

 

**iamimjaebum**

is that what you’re calling mark now cause god

jinyoung that’s a really fucking weird nickname

 

**notparkjinyoung**

ohmygod it’s an expression you brainless dickwad

 

**notparkjinyoung**

and yes i am referring to mark

 

**iamimjaebum**

;;;;;)))))))) been talking eyyyy

 

**notparkjinyoung**

did a little better than that - i took a leaf out of your 

book and asked him if he’d like to go to the movies 

this weekend,,,,, without the snowball throwing, of 

course

 

**notparkjinyoung**

are you going to admit that the snowball was meant

to hit youngjae or am i gonna have to blackmail you

into doing so :D

 

**iamimjaebum**

………………..okay maybe

 

**notparkjinyoung**

:-)

 

**iamimjaebum**

heY PARK JINYOUNG DID YOU JUST TAKE A   


SCREENSHOT AND SEND IT TO YOUNGJAE

YOU BINCH

 

**notparkjinyoung**

youre welllllllcome ;)

 

And that is the story of how Supreme Sovereigns of The Sappy Dorks, Choi Youngjae and Im Jaebum got their own cute story.

**Author's Note:**

> also someone please tell me that im not the only one who hates cinnamon,,,,,,,,,,,


End file.
